Worthless
by Lovell Luka
Summary: Draco's lips quiver as he desperately tries to hold in his anguish. He admonishes himself for being so weak. He hates himself for it. He hates himself for many reasons. He feels worthless. He knows it's true. He is worthless. 8th Year. Pre-Slash. Oneshot.


**~Worthless~**

Draco's standing in the astronomy tower, arms resting on the ledge, supporting himself. He looks out over the dew-covered grounds on this early spring morning. Cold grey-silver eyes scan the horizon. Draco let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. The sky is pale blue with a twinge of pink. The sun has barely risen.

Draco has spent the last three nights up in this tower. It's his escape from the world. The cruel world that likes to place their judgments upon him. He has never wanted any of this. To be shunned for circumstances that are beyond his control. They don't know him. They don't want to know him. He's not accepted, he knows this, and it hurts. To be unwanted makes his chest ache. He's hurting; alone and forgotten. No one can see how he's broken. They don't bother to look.

Draco has always wished for someone, anyone, to love him, but no one has. Not even his own parents. The thought of this makes Draco's eyes water. He bites his lower lip to restrain himself, in vain. He releases a shuddering breath as a few tears escape and he's grateful there's no one here to see how pathetic he is.

His lips quiver as he desperately tries to hold in his anguish. He admonishes himself for being so weak. He hates himself for it. He hates himself for many reasons. He feels worthless. He knows it's true. He _is_ worthless. He has no self esteem, no purpose in this world. This fact has never been more true than it is now.

He doesn't know how he got this way, he just knows he's always wanted to be cared about. His mother and father never really wanted him, and neither has Potter. That's probably the most devastating thing of all. He's wished, many times, that Potter had just left him in the Room of Requirement that night. Why didn't Potter just let him die in the fire? That would have been preferred. More tears threaten to spill over and Draco furiously wipes them away with the back of his hand. He's tired of crying, so very tired.

He rests his elbows on the ledge and covers his face with his hands. Right now, like so many times before, toughts of suicide flood his mind. He's gotten into the horrible routine of telling himself that no one loves him, he's worthless, everyone would be better off without him, and that maybe - just maybe - someone will miss him when he's gone. Then comes the darker thoughts. He devises different ways to end his life. He could transfigure a rock into a blade or pair of scissors, and slit open his wrists. He could jump from this tower and fall to his death. He could hang himself with a rope until his neck snaps and he stops breathing.

The thought of actually killing himself makes Draco cry harder. He folds his arms atop the ledge and buries his face in them. He can no longer hold the tears back, his body trembles as he sobs. God, it hurts so much; crying until his throat and chest literally ache. Oh, what a tangled web we weave. Draco regrets it all, and if he could change it he would, but it's too late. It's too late for him to be Potter's friend, it's too late for him to refuse the Dark Mark. It's too late for _him_.

Draco finally draws a deep beath and straightens himself. He's made up his mind. It's the only way he'll ever find peace. Draco looks out at the sky again, this time with tortured silver eyes. If heaven exists, he hopes that is where he goes. Of course any place would be better than this, he thinks sadly. He looks around for a minute and sees his book bag. He goes over and pulls out a quill and parchment. He plans to leave a note, but he can't think of anything to say. It probably doesn't matter, honestly. Who would care? So he changes his mind. He writes nothing, putting the quill and parchment back in his bag.

He walks around the tower for a minute, surveying the walls; no place to tie a rope. He looks over the ledge, down at the hard, unforgiving ground; heights are too frightening. Finally he sees a small stone behind a pillar to his left. Draco kneels down to pick it up in his pale hands. He looks at it for a long moment before using his want to turn it into a sharp, thin, angled dagger.

A tear falls without his permission. He's never thought this is how he would die; by his own hands. He's so young. Some would say he has his whole life ahead of him, but they're wrong. They're so very wrong. He looks around one last time. There's no one here to save him. They've all abandoned him and left him alone to die. _That's fine_, he thinks, _I'm not worth it_.

Draco sits on the floor and leans against the wall. He rolls up his black sleeve to expose the flesh of his pale arm marred by the Dark Mark. More tears fall as anger overwhelms him. He holds the dagger firmly, preparing to slash his wrists.

"Malfoy!" His name is screamed, "Accio knife!"

The blade flies out of Draco's hands and he quickly jumps up, startled, to look at the obnoxious dagger-thief. It's Harry Potter. Of course it is. Draco's angry, he's backed himself against the ledge of the tower.

"Stay. Away. From. Me." Draco hisses, pointing his wand at Potter.

He looks clearly distraut and a bit over the edge. Potter makes no attempt to move as he stares firmly at Draco's flushed, tear-stained face. Draco's eyes are blood-shot red. He looks like he's been crying for the better part of two or three hours.

"Malfoy..." Potter says, looking torn and hurt. "Why?"

Draco's wand-arm shakes as a new wave of tears begin to form. He fights to hold himself steady. His lips twitch as crying threatens to comsume him.

"Why not, Potter?" Draco shouts, hysterically. "Wouldn't you be happy?"

Potter's face falls. He shakes his head as he slowly steps toward Draco.

"Stay away!" Draco cries, letting fresh tears spill over.

Potter shakes his head, and he looks like he might cry too.

"What happened?" He asks, voice cracking slightly.

Draco doesn't answer.

"Malfoy?" Potter questions as he steps even closer.

Draco's thrown back into panic mode at the proximity.

"Get away from me!" He wails.

He tries to throw a hex at Potter, but it hits the wall as Potter quickly steps forward and grabs onto Draco's arm.

"Get off me, you bastard!" Draco cries, fighting against the other boy's hold on him.

Potter is a bit stronger though and he doesn't let go. Draco tries to wrench his arm free to no avail. Potter holds on. He becomes overwhelmed at the inability to escape and drops to his knees. Potter kneels with him and takes this opportunity to firmly wrap his arms around the Slytherin, who is mumbling incoherently to himself.

"Please, just go away." Draco chokes out, sobbing.

Potter just hugs Draco tighter, gently petting his disheveled, blonde hair.

"Shh... Draco. It's okay," Potter says, voice trembling in anguish, "It will be okay. I promise." He says, rocking Draco from side to side in an attempt to console the heart-broken boy.

Draco quiets down after several long minutes, no longer sobbing. Potter just holds him, not daring to move away. Potter buries his face in Draco's hair and sighs. He caught by surprise when Draco speaks.

"Potter?" He whispers.

"Yeah?" Potter replies.

"Am I worthless?" He asks quietly.

Potter shakes his head, "No, Draco. You're not worthless."

~Fin~

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

AN: I cried _so_ much while writing this.

And I like reviews. *hint hint* If I see that you've faved my fic, but haven't left a review, I will hunt you down and squeeze a review out of you. I don't want to, but I will if I have to. ;)

Bye lovlies! Until next time...


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